


The Same Deep Water as You

by shrink



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:10:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrink/pseuds/shrink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the final battle at Hogwarts, Remus saves Severus from bleeding to death by turning him into a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Same Deep Water as You

Another minute Snape would be dead. Remus was sure of that much. Later he would doubt this. But he’d be wrong. Even through the drugged slow haze of thought from the Wolfsbane, it was evident that the man in front of him was bleeding out. He was propped against the wall; black clumps of hair uncharacteristically strewn across his rapidly paling cheeks.

From where Remus was crouched it almost looked like Snape was watching him; which would have been enough to stop him if he weren’t so scared – if there were time to consider anything else. This isn’t what Snape would want; he knew it even as he sank his teeth into the man’s upper bicep. So why was he doing it? There was a sharp hiss of breath, and he almost let go. But letting go meant death. He bit harder. It was important that it was enough. He hated that the iron taste of blood in his mouth was so appetizing to the wolf. That it wanted to keep going, keep tearing. He walked back, his paws sticking against the wooden floor panels from the other man’s spilled blood.Snape groaned, and Remus slumped onto the ground, his head resting on his left paw. This was the best he knew how to save Snape. If the curse worked quickly enough, the lycanthropy might counteract the damage of the wound, and from the look of it—the poison in it.

He could hear the crackling of curses being sent through the air outside. He’d been hit before he transformed, and he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his own blood he was laying in. If anyone came through the door, he couldn’t guarantee if he could defend himself, much less Snape. He hadn’t been able to save Tonks. What was left but to try and save who was in front of him? Maybe they---whoever they might be---would think Snape was already dead. Maybe he was. Remus tried to keep his eyes open, there was too much to think about to sleep now. But reasoning didn’t work and, a few minutes later, his heavy eyelids slid closed.

It didn’t feel like morning but it must have been. He stared at his hands sprawled across the cold floor panels of the Shrieking Shack. He couldn’t pinpoint one thing that was wrong, because everything was wrong. He flexed different muscles slowly, feeling joints pop and aches he couldn’t explain. There was still a metallic tang at the back of his throat. He stood shakily and walked towards Snape. His right foot was numb, so he had to watch rather than feel where his next step would be until he reached the other man. He brought two fingers to the Snape’s pale neck. There was a stretch of a minute when he couldn’t feel anything at all. But then the steady tick of a pulse. He gathered the cloaked man in his arms. It was too much of a risk to go outside with Snape’s reputation and his own, depending on who was still standing. Not that there was anything left for him on the battlefield. There was a safe house he used when he hadn’t been able to get Wolfsbane since Dumbledore’s death last year. He Apparated them both to the location with what felt like the last of his energy and still managed to carry Snape to the bed and laid him down without really thinking about it. He watched his fingers pull the covers over the other man. He thought about Tonk’s pale face. The way she’d smiled at him before she died like she knew something that he didn’t. Snape shifted on the mattress. Remus refocused on the injured man. He’d need bandages for the neck wound—which was already closing neatly, a small pink scar beginning at the edges. And bandages for the bite he reminded himself with a grimace; that would take longer to heal since it couldn’t be done with magic. He brought a kit from the bathroom of the necessary materials and began doctoring the wounds. There was caked blood dried along Snape’s robes, and on the ends of his hair. He wished Snape would wake up now. Not for any real reason other than he was tired of looking at people who weren’t okay. Because Snape was always okay.

When he was done doctoring the wounds, Remus walked into the other room. There was a couch by the fireplace he could sleep on after he washed up.

II.

Remus stood under the spray of the shower. Dried patches of blood had rinsed off his skin twenty minutes ago, but he thought it was better to be sure. The steam of the shower made the tiled wall facing him seem far away. He wished more things worked like that. Eventually he gripped the nozzle off, and stood in front of the foggy mirror. “Look at me,” he said; swiping the condensation away, “you’ll be fine.” Just like Snape would be fine. He’d become a werewolf once a month. But he’d be fine. And if he wasn’t, that was his decision.

Remus stared into his own eyes, the black pupil pushing the amber irises to the rim. Soon he’d have to start thinking about how to get Teddy---where they would go. He’d been staying with Tonks’ mother since things had been escalating with the war. But she was ill. She couldn’t look after a newborn. However the war had ended, he’d have to go looking for his son. Soon, but not now. It was probably safer for both of them that he wait. He dressed soundlessly in the first clothes he had grabbed from the wardrobe and returned to the fireplace. He knew he should check on Snape again soon. Remus stared at his open hands. But surely sleep was better for him than anything Remus could offer. He licked his dry lips and went to the kitchen. He put the kettle on the stove and measured spoonfuls of peppermint tea into a mug. Truth be told, he couldn’t exactly think of how to explain the situation to Snape. That he had been saved. That a werewolf bite was responsible. That he now had his own “furry little problem.” The clang of his teaspoon against his cup was loud in the small kitchen. Snape would be assumed dead, no matter the outcome which would be for the best. Either way, there was no way he could go back. He was at best a traitor, and at worst, a murderer. Harry had explained the situation to him just a week earlier and he hadn’t been surprised; Snape had always had his secrets.

The hissing of the kettle startled him, and he turned abruptly. Snape was leaning against the counter, turning the stove off. “Two lumps,” he said motioning towards the sugar.

“I didn’t expect you to be awake so soon,” Remus said, physically reeling away from the other man.

“Surprised that you adequately performing a healing charm, Lupin?” Snape didn’t know. Remus briefly considered how long they could both blissfully live in Snape’s ignorance of the bite. But then, Snape wasn’t a stupid man. Even now, his dark eyes were trained on Remus’ own, questioning and analytic in their stare.

“I’m afraid there was more to it than a healing charm, Severus.” His words seemed flat. He meant to be empathetic. He used to be empathetic.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow, “can you explain and hand me a mug in tandem; if I must hear every tedious detail, I may as well be caffeinated.” Remus passed the mug to Snape, watching at he poured the steaming water over the tea leaves Remus had measured out for himself.

“You were bitten,” he explained.

“I know,” Snape remarked, motioning towards the bandage on his neck, “I suppose Nagini isn’t as lethal as she used to be.” Why was he making it so easy to lie?

“No, you were bitten by a werewolf. The wolf’s blood in your veins counteracted the poison. That’s why you’re alive.” Strange, he thought, as the words were leaving his lips, that “a werewolf” passed through them instead of “me.”

“A werewolf?” Snape’s eyes narrowed, “Greyback.”

“Right,” Remus found himself agreeing. Since there was no way to make this better, he may as well make it easier.

“I bet you love this,” Snape said after he’d taken a sip of the tea, "cosmic justice.” It was a bit ironic, he supposed, if he were someone else he might get a bit of joy out of it. But becoming a werewolf wasn’t something Remus would wish upon anyone, it wasn’t something that’d he’d take joy in. And the notion that he would, demonstrated how far removed Snape was from him.

Remus sighed. “There are more bandages in the cupboard by the sink. I want to sit here and read for awhile,” he said motioning towards the chair by the fireplace.

“And I’m supposed to do what exactly? Get started on brewing our Wolfsbane? How convenient for you. Now I see exactly what good luck this all was for you. Now I see why I’m here with you and not lying dead on a battlefield,” Snape said feeling, for what must have been the first time, the bandage that Remus had wrapped around his arm over the bite. It was typical of Snape to cast himself as the victim and everyone else as having the worst and most petty possible intentions. This wasn’t anything new or unexpected, and Remus wished it didn’t bother him so much.

“Do whatever you like. You’re free to read any of the books on the shelves,” he said as he sat down in the chair, staring into the flames. He needed to clear his head. It felt like all the air in the house was filled with Snape’s agitation, and there was nothing to do but breathe it in.

“So, let’s see, you’ve finally achieved your friends’ plot; turn Snivellus into a werewolf. It only took you another werewolf and thirty years. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Right,” he said quietly. His knees were already getting warm from the fire.

“So why am I here with you? Cheap entertainment? More fun to watch me suffer than to watch me die?”

“No Severus, I think we’ve both seen enough of suffering. And enough of death. I brought you here because you were a person who I could help. Not because I wanted to help you.”

Snape blinked and looked down, “I guess I should be honored that you consider me a person at all. It must be hard to make such a concession from your pillar of moral righteousness.”

Remus reached for the book he’d begun last time he’d been at this safe-house. “You should probably lie back down.”

“Worry about yourself, Lupin. Did you notice there’s blood soaking into your cardigan?” Remus looked down, and found the dark stain. He was annoyed he hadn’t noticed it in the shower. It didn’t hurt particularly badly. Nothing hurt. A tapping caught their attention; an owl knocked the glass window. Remus let it in, and took the letter from its leg.

“What’s it say?” Snape asked after it became clear Remus wasn’t going to share on his own.

“Voldemort has been defeated. Harry is alive,” Remus said tonelessly, handing the letter to Snape. He strode toward the door of the cabin.

“What are you doing?” Snape asked, as Remus retrieved his cloak.

“It’s safe for me to return. I need to see my son,” he said quickly, not noticing the pinching of Snape’s eyebrows before Apparating abruptly.

III.

When Remus returned two days later he found Snape in the basement. “I’ll try and hide my disappointment about the state of this potion supply closet,” he said dryly, not looking up from a simmering cauldron.

“I’m typically only here in times of crisis,” Remus replied, shifting the brown paper bags in his hands, “anyway, I picked up the Wolfsbane ingredients while I was gone. I thought you’d at least want to make it for yourself.”

“It’s lucky your martyrdom never gets tiresome, or else communicating with you would be insufferable” Snape said, plucking the bags from Remus’s grip, and combing through the contents. “Not the choicest herbs, but they’ll do. Are you here to stay?” Snape asked when Remus turned to walk up the steps.

“For now,” he replied, leaning heavily on the railing. “Tonks is dead. Her mother is very ill and my son was taken into the care of the Ministry. I’d rather not be at home.”

“And here I thought you were concerned about me.”

“Oh, how’s your neck?” Remus asked, realizing that the bandage was gone.

“It turns out lycanthropy is good for something after all,” Snape said, arching his neck to reveal a purplish scar. “When you go back, I’d like to retrieve a few items from my rooms.”

“Make a list,” Remus called mildly over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs.

IV.

Later that evening Remus sat hunched in the living room, staring at the same paragraph he’d been trying to focus on for the past fifteen minutes. Going back had been draining. So many old friends were dead or unaccounted for. Mass graves had been prepared, so there was no definite way of knowing where Tonks’ body was buried. There was no way to get Teddy back at the moment. In spite of pressure from Harry, the Ministry refused to return custody of the boy on the grounds of Remus being an unfit father since he was unemployed. But it had been obvious to him that they didn’t want to return custody because Remus was a known werewolf. In which case, there was no solution.

“I conjured a cot in the basement,” Snape said, drawing his attention out of the book. “So you can go to sleep in the bed.”

“That was thoughtful, thank you Severus.”

“It’s simply more convenient.” Snape took a slow breath. Remus could feel his stare on the side of his face. “I’m sorry to hear about Tonks,” he said after a moment’s apprehension.

“Yes, if either of us had to die, I’d rather it have been the parent who could have cared for our son.” Remus’s fingers picked at the sleeve of his cardigan as he spoke. The edges were pulling apart.

Snape sighed. “Well, what’s done is done. And you’re certainly not doing your son any favors sitting around---not taking care of yourself.” Remus turned and met Snape’s stare.

“Do you ever stop? Do you ever find it hard not acting like a normal human being, with a working heart?”Remus’s chest felt tight. He could go the rest of his life without hearing another person telling him what he was doing wrong.

“Take a look at yourself, Lupin. Your heart died with Black not with Tonks.” Even after two years of Sirius being gone, Snape still said his name as if it were poisonous.

“How can you stand there and tell me I didn’t love my wife? What are you gaining?”

“It hasn’t been a week; isn’t it a little soon for the past tense?”

“You can’t just say whatever you like because you think it’s witty. But I’m not going to live like this. Stay here and display a level a decency we can live with, or go. If you want to stay, great---if not---also great. But I’m not putting up with your constant game of ‘will Lupin rise to the bait?’ The answer is no. I’m too tired, and I’m too…” he sighed, swiping the hair from his eyes, “tired.” Snape regarded him stonily for a moment, before pointing towards the bedroom door.

“Go lie down Lupin. You’re obviously hysterical. I’ll bring you up a sleeping drought shortly.” Remus took a slow breath, shook his head, and closed his book. He did need to sleep.

“I appreciate that gesture, Severus,” he said as he passed the taller man. Snape said nothing, as the bedroom door closed with a click.

V.

When Remus woke, he had felt remarkably better. There’d been a note pinned under the goblet Snape had brought him last night. Impeccable handwriting detailed the list of supplies Snape wanted retrieved from his quarters in Hogwarts. Remus clutched the note now, as he stood outside the Potions Dungeon. He’d helped with repairs to the school through the afternoon, and almost forgotten the list entirely. “Remus!” He pivoted and looked down the darkened hallway to find Harry jogging towards him. He looked taller, like he had been stooping the entire time Remus had known him.

“Professor McGonagall wanted me to let you know she wanted to talk to you before you left today,” Harry said between breaths.

“About what?” Remus asked, unnerved by the grin on the younger man’s face.

“She wouldn’t say. But I do know she’s in the market for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the fall,” Harry said, a wide grin splitting his face. It was perhaps the happiest Remus had seen him since the night in the tunnel under the Whomping Willow. Remus felt the passage of time deep in his bone marrow.

“I doubt any parents would allow that,” Remus said, not allowing himself to feel the excitement. He folded his hands into each other to keep them from shaking.

“Not want a war hero teaching their students? Times have changed, Remus. We have to move forward. Not stagnate under old beliefs. A lot of good people died to preserve our world, and we can’t allow old prejudices to seep back into our lives. We owe them that much.” Remus tried not to look at Harry. He was a bit too earnest. A bit too hopeful. It was too idealistic a vision to sell someone like himself. “Besides, you have Wolfsbane,” Harry said, turning towards the dungeon doors. “Is that what you’re here for now?”

“Mainly,” Remus said, striding towards the supply closet, crumbling Snape’s list in his hand. It wasn’t that needed to keep Snape’s survival a secret from Harry. He just didn’t think the younger man needed the burden of the knowledge now---not with so much going on. “You can tell Minerva that I’ll be up shortly.”

“Sure,” Harry said, “by the way, I’m heading towards the Ministry again today---you’ll have Teddy back---if killing Voldemort doesn’t get me a favor at the Ministry---then I don’t know what would.” Harry was so open, so relieved; it made Remus curl into himself harder, press his lips together, made him want to push Harry and all of his optimism out of the room, the dungeons, the castle.

“I’m afraid I might have to wait until school starts again and I’m getting a salary,” Remus said, annoyed with himself for feeling the slight twinge of hope as he spoke the words. He knew it wasn’t going to happen the way Harry envisioned it.

“It won’t be long now Remus,” Harry called over his shoulder as he headed away. It was hard not to envy his positivity, especially in light of all he’d been through. The taste of jealousy was thick on his tongue. He skillfully collected the ingredients on Snape’s list. It was easy, as the man was meticulously organized. Entering his personal quarters was strange. It made the man he’d been staying with for the past couple days seem more like a ghost and less like the Snape he’d remembered. Black robes hung in the closet. He took a few, laying them neatly over his arm. The journals Snape requested were stacked on the bookshelf. He tucked them under his arm before making the trek down to Hogsmeade.

VI.

“How’s the castle?” Snape asked, eyeing the materials Remus had brought him with approval if the way he gently ran his fingers against a beaker was anything to go by.

“It’s coming along quite well. We’ve had lots of volunteers contributing to the rebuilding efforts.” Remus thought about telling him the rest, where Minerva had spread her arms open for a hug he didn’t want to, couldn’t give her. How she gave him a job. He wasn’t sure he could say it out loud without it being taken away.

“Was there anything else?” Snape said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“No,” Remus said, shuffling the groceries he’d brought back with him into the cupboards. The back of his neck was hot. “Well,” he paused, “Minerva offered me my old position back.” He said it in one great exhale and waited for Snape to point out, pragmatically, that there would be protesting parents. Protesting students.

“I wish the thought of training first years made my frown lines recede as effectively,” Snape said, staring disdainfully at bag of mint truffles on the table.

“I didn’t realize I was so transparent.” He hadn’t realized he’d let himself believe it wouldn’t be snatched away again.

Snape stared at him for a moment, before collecting his supplies. “I need to start making preparations for the Wolfsbane.” Remus felt his head tilt to the side.

“You know Severus, I’m quite surprised the way you’ve been handling this situation. I would have thought you’d be a bit more…” Snape frowned.

“I’m a scholar, Lupin, not a lunatic. What’s done is done. Besides, from an intellectual standpoint, the changes on my physiology will be quite satisfying to document.” He still hadn’t looked up from the things Remus had brought for him.

“Right.”

“And it’s not as though you were the one who bite me. I hope Greyback didn’t make it out of the fight alive.” Remus swallowed.

“Very few did,” Remus said, pushing honey-colored hair behind his ear.

VII.

“Are you scared?” Remus asked, lowering his now empty goblet.

"What sort of question is that to ask me,” Snape asked, gagging back the Wolfsbane potion he’d prepared them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “This is vile,” he added, staring at the goblet in horror.

“I’d be lying if I said that you’ll get used to it,” Remus stripped off his cardigan, staring at down at his fingers fumbling against his buttons.

“Really, Lupin, just because we’re about to become animals doesn’t mean we have to become uncivilized.” The sentiment was so unbelievably Snape that Remus had to suppress an eye roll as padded to the bedroom.

“And we’ll just strip in our respectful rooms and wait for the transformation.” Even as a joke Remus was regretting bringing it up as an option. If he didn’t say it, Snape wouldn’t hide himself in the corner of the basement.

“Did you have another idea?” His eyebrow arched too dramatically to be sincere.

“Well, no---I’ve never really done this with anyone before.” Remus felt his cheeks heating up.

“Don’t act like some sort of virgin, it’s completely unbecoming.” Remus made a face, and unbuttoned his trousers. The last two weeks had been a welcome change to the two proceeding them. Snape typically stayed in the basement, pouring over his journals and cauldrons, appearing only partake in whatever sensible dinner Remus had prepared. On some nights Snape would join in the living room, take the seat across from him and make notes on the work he’d accomplished. They didn’t talk about much.

“So will this actually hurt or were you just trying to get attention all these years?” Remus smiled tightly but held on to the easy exchange Snape was offering him instead of his internal monologue of self-loathing.

“You know me better than that. Of course it was for the attention.” But there was no reply this time, and Remus knew why. The full moon had fully appeared, and the change was already gripping his body rigid. He tried to focus on Snape’s screams over his own. And after he found himself on the floor, canine vision in tact he shakily stood to find Snape. The transformation was always painful, and not the type of pain that you can get used to, just the kind that you could expect. He could feel the sort of pressure in his joints that if he could twist just so he knew it would be relieved but he’d never found the right way to twist. In the living room, Snape’s wolf form was curled tightly in a ball, still writhing under the ghost of the pain that had just gripped him. Remus nudged the wolf in the side with his snout, willing Snape to open his eyes. When he did, he could see the agony. His breaths came out in labored pants as he lay prone on the floor. Remus lay down beside him. There wasn’t much else he could do other than be close and hope his warmth eased his cramping muscles. As the night when on, Snape never roused from his position, but seemed to fall in and out of an exhausted sleep. Remus wondered if it was worth the price to save him. A question he’d asked himself many times over the years. Was the pain of the transformation endured monthly, worth living the rest? Sometimes the question was easier to answer than other times.

VIII.

In the morning, Remus had woken Snape with a hesitant hand on his shoulder. He’d prepared tea and toast, but Snape wanted none of it, waving Remus away with a weak hand. He’d insisted on continuing his work downstairs, resurfacing only to hand Remus another list of needed ingredients while Remus made tea, his usually tight handwriting was large and drug through itself in parts. “Saffron?” He was mostly checking that he was reading it correctly, but the lines around Snape’s eyes made him add, “for what?”

“Do you really intend to have me explain the complexities of potion brewing to you in casual conversation?” Snape asked. Remus couldn’t help but notice he took the distraction of the conversation to walk closer to the kitchen table and lean into a chair. He’d done the same trick countless times at Grimmauld Place after particularly bad nights. Remus realized he’d be quiet too long.

“Of course not. But what don’t you take a break from all of that today. You look unwell Severus. I’m sure the transformation took its toll on your body.” Snape straightened and took his hand off the chair. Remus wished he’d let the silence drag out.

“All the better to try and brew something for relief from the symptoms.” He knew there was no convincing him to take it easy, that he’d be alright with the usual pain reliever. There was no convincing Snape that he didn’t need it, that he didn’t deserve it. The tea kettle whistled. Snape was still standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“Well, I am headed back today. Minerva has called a staff meeting, and afterwards I’ll begin to get my classroom in order.” Remus pulled the kettle off the stove and poured himself a cup. He wished he hadn’t started.

“Word of wisdom Lupin,” Snape said, holding a stern finger in the air, “don’t let them know how excited you, obviously, are to teach them.” Smiling made it hard for Remus to continue blowing on his tea.

“I’ll practice my feigned grimace later. Take care,” Remus said as Snape nodded and walked slowly toward the basement stairs.

IX.

Remus sat in the bedroom, a photo in hand. Teddy reached a hand towards the camera, before smiling widely, his amber eyes innocent and wide---where Remus’s own were tired; like someone turned the light out behind them. It wasn’t easy to have the only person who loved you without attaching some declarative like, “even though you’re a werewolf” taken away. School had begun today, without much fanfare. But it was nice to hear the echoing calls of “Professor Lupin” as students raised their hands. Teaching at Hogwarts had been one of the happiest times of his life. Only trumped by attending Hogwarts as a student. But then, it was hard for anything in adult life to ever eclipse the experience of any memory of childhood. Tomorrow he’d appear before the Ministry court to attain custody of his son. He had letters of recommendation from Harry, Minerva, and Arthur Weasley which he’d already submitted. Teddy could be watched while he was teaching by his grandmother, and then he would Apparate the boy back to his corridors at Hogwarts when his classes for the day were complete. Minerva had even allowed him extra room in his quarters for Teddy.

“I’ve made dinner,” Snape announced, standing awkwardly in the doorway. It was slightly bizarre to see this domestic side of the other man. Bizarre, but not unwelcome. “And before you thank me, it’s merely lentil soup.” But Remus couldn’t think of anything to say other than “thank you.” So he nodded, and stood, setting the picture back on his nightstand. All life he’d been trying to even his personality out by finding someone louder, someone more sociable, more friendly to compensate for his own introversion. But somehow it felt natural to be in Severus’ presence---who was the antithesis of all those qualities. “I thought you’d be too exhausted to prepare anything other than tea and chocolate after your first day teaching. And as I’d like to retain my health, stepped in.” He’d never understand Snape’s need to justify kind gestures. As he leaned over the stove to scope the soup into Remus’s dish, Remus couldn’t help but notice the general pallor about the other man. From the look of it, Snape didn’t have much health left to lose.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Severus?”

“Save your concern---don’t you have a trial to focus on?” He placed the bowl in front of Remus at the table, before sitting across from him.

“Indeed, iIf everything goes as well as Harry seems to think it will, I’ll be tucking Teddy into his bed at Hogwarts this time tomorrow.”

“So you plan on living chiefly at the castle then?” Snape said, his voice even, his expression unreadable.

“Yes. But you’re more than welcome to remain here.”

Snape frowned, “I’m hardly going to remain here forever, Lupin. But I do think it best to let things settle more before I begin withdrawing money from bank accounts and so forth.”

“Stay as long as you need. No one knows the location of this house. And I’ll continue to return with supplies as long as you need me to.”

Snape nodded, his black hair falling across his cheeks. Remus knew from personal experience that it wasn’t ever easy to be at the mercy of someone.

X.

He hadn’t slept all night, his head lie still on his pillow as he stared at the wall. He began getting ready extra early and took an extra long time getting ready. He smoothed his hair in the mirror, before doing an approximation of a smile, which was more of a stretched line than anything. He plucked some lint off his robes, and tightened his tie. He looked like a teacher. He looked like someone you could trust. If he blurred his eyes, he couldn’t even see the scars across his cheeks from transformations past. He leaned on the basin of the sink, “look at me,” he said, looking himself in the eye, “you’ll be fine.”

Snape entered the kitchen as he poured his tea. “I probably won’t be back tonight,” he said, spooning honey into the mug. “But should you need to contact me---“

“I’ll manage,” Snape said, slipping a slice of bread into the toaster. He paused. “And I’ll be here either way.”

“What does that mean?” Remus asked, his stomach already souring at the implication. Snape ran a finger over his nose while staring intently at the toaster, as if he weren’t completely sure it would do its job.

“You should consider the possibility that you won’t be awarded custody,” Snape said, turning and eyeing his outfit, “in spite of your sweater vest.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t I?” Remus said, his fingers clamping around the rim of the mug, the hot ceramic burning his skin. Snape, plucked his toast out of the toaster and calmly set it on a plate.

“You know why.”

“I have a job now---I have letters of recommendation. That’s what they asked me to get. Everything is in order. You’re just trying to upset me.” Remus knew it wasn’t true even as he said it. But he couldn’t let the vice around his ribcage get any tighter, or he wouldn’t be able to even go to the hearing, so certain already of what they would say.

“I don’t want you to set yourself up for a disappointment you haven’t prepared yourself for,” Snape said. He was buttering his toast at a measured pace.

“Trust me—there is no disappointment that I haven’t prepared myself for---but thanks for your concern,” he took a sip of the too hot tea, swallowing quickly as it burned its way down his throat.

“And if this doesn’t work---there are other ways,” Snape continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

Remus gripped the handle of his mug tighter. “Don’t talk to me like this! I’ve waited long enough! I want my son!” his voice became hitched, and struggled quickly to regain his composure.“I’m sorry, Severus. It’s stress. I should go.” He set the mug down hard in the sink, before gathering his bag and Apparating to school.

XI.

He couldn’t go back to the castle. Not like this. But then, going to the safe house meant proving Snape right. Not that he had much of an option, he thought, as the bartender shuffled him out. But it was late and no students would be in the halls. Probably. He tried to concentrate on the shuffle of his feet as they navigated him aimlessly through Diagon Alley, stopping only when his shoulder painfully impacted a concrete corner. The word “unfit” rang round his head like smoke, and he couldn’t see beyond them. Minerva had assured him at the conclusion of the trial that she didn’t expect him in tomorrow. And she’d looked at him with pity. “Always pity,” he heard himself say aloud, not that there was anyone to hear him. It was cold, he noted, as he slouched against the building he’d run into, sliding to the sidewalk. He listened hard for footsteps or distant conversation, but the streets around him were deserted. He took comfort in the thought, and let his tired eyes finally close.

He must have passed out for at least an hour, because when he looked up at the sky again, the moon had moved and the first rosy tinges of morning were visible on the horizon. Some of the effects of the alcohol had worn off, but his mouth tasted terrible. He was shivering, and he tried not to think about it, he tried not to think at all, as he Apparated.

The lights were off, and he was sure Snape would be sleeping, having assumed that all had gone well when he didn’t come back sooner. Remus stripped off his cloak and tugged sharply at his tie, feeling the soft fabric bunching in his hand. Everything was ruined; why shouldn’t his clothes be? He walked into the bedroom and took a steady breath as he applied the toothpaste to his toothbrush. When he spit there was blood mixed with the white foam, and he was glad. He stared at it as it ran down the drain. He looked up, his eyes were blood shot---but why---he hadn’t cried. He probably couldn’t even if he wanted to. He placed the toothbrush back in its holder and took another breath as he looked in the mirror. He was breathing slowly--- why was his heart beating so fast? The words wouldn’t come out this time; no matter how much he wanted to tell himself it was “fine.” Somehow it wouldn’t work. He waited. He opened his mouth and shut it again. But before he had time to process the action, his fist crashed into his reflection. And once the pain started, once the first glass dug into his skin, he didn’t want it to stop. He choked and the vodka he’d paid so much for earlier came back through his lips, mixing with the glass and blood in the sink. His stomach churned again and he kept gagging, tears falling. He was glad he couldn’t see himself anymore. He was on the floor now and he wasn’t sure if he was crying or choking, his head tightly cradled in his left hand.

“Remus,” Snape was trying to pull his hands away from his face, and he realized, distantly, that Snape had been calling his name for awhile, but he didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to stop. Snape wrapped a tight arm around him, and pulled him into an embrace, he was the only thing that felt warm and Remus leaned into him. “Take a deep breath,” Snape said into his ear, “you’re having a panic attack.” Remus tried, and followed Snape’s instructions, as the other man held him close. He couldn’t remember another human being holding him so purposefully, so protectively before, and he wondered if it was still the vodka that was making him so light headed. “Why are you so cold,” Snape said aloud, but it seemed more like he was talking to himself than anyone else.

Remus closed his eyes and felt himself relaxing slowly. “Let’s walk to the bed,” Snape said, half carrying Remus up off the ground. As he was lifted up, he looked back at the scene of broken glass and smeared blood on the white ceramic of the bathroom tiles. Snape set him carefully on the bed, and sat next to him, gently taking Remus’ right hand into his own. He waved his wand over the wound, healing the deep cuts away, leaving only blood remaining. “I’m going to get a towel,” he explained when Remus tensed as he stood. When he returned, he wiped away the blood with a warm soapy rag.

“Looks like you were right,” Remus said, his voice small.

“I didn’t want to be,” Snape replied, not looking up from Remus’s hand. “I believed Harry; I believed that it was because of the job. I believed that the war had changed people. But now it’s clear, people never change.” When Snape was done washing the blood off of his hand, he held it gently, inspecting the fresh red scars. Remus’s throat was raw and burning, but he couldn’t keep himself from talking. “I wanted to believe that when I failed, it was because I deserved to---not because people didn’t want to see a werewolf succeed. I wanted to believe that when someone didn’t like me---it was because I did something wrong---not because I was a werewolf. But of course that’s the reason now---and it always was, like you back in school.”

“Don’t be stupid, I didn’t like you because you were Gryffindor,” Snape said, letting go of Remus’s hand.

“I am stupid, I am…that’s what I am,” Remus felt his chest tightening again.

But Snape quickly drew him near, “No, I didn’t mean that. You’re not---God, Remus, you’re so clever---you always have been.” Snape’s chin rested on his head, and it felt right, it felt like this is how things should have been all along. And he almost wanted to keep crying, to keep hurting himself, so that Snape would never stop touching him like this.

“But it doesn’t matter, and it never will,” Remus realized how pathetic he sounded, but he couldn’t stop it.

“Maybe it will,” Snape said, firmly. Enough that it wasn’t platitude to calm him down, but like he had a real plan to stop it. “I’ve been working on a potion---that could very well cure lycanthropy. And I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t believe that it will work. Of course, I don’t know if for sure until I try it.”

“What?” Remus pushed away from Snape so he could look him in the eye, “I’ll take it, I’ll take it now.”

Snape frowned, “You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid. From the smell of it, your blood is soaked with alcohol. Give it a day, or two and we’ll test it.”

“And everything will be OK,” Remus said, closing his eyes and wrapping an arm around Snape’s firm stomach. Snape’s breaths were quick as Remus pressed his cheek against his chest.

“Closer anyway,” he said, as the pair lay back on the bed.

“Stay here tonight,” Remus said, glad he could blame the alcohol for this later.

“Only because I’d incur the wrath of Harry Potter if you drowned in your vomit while you slept,” Snape said, pulling the covers over the two of them.

“Okay,” Remus said, half listening, as he drifted to sleep.

XII.

When he woke up he wondered if it had been a lie to calm him down. He sat up in his bed, and unbuttoned the collared shirt he’d slept in. Snape wasn’t next to him, but he could hear him shuffling around in the kitchen. He felt his cheeks flush when he thought of the way the other man had held him through the night. How embarrassing. And even now, the thought of being around Snape, made his chest tight. How pathetic was he? That anyone that showed him the slightest kindness engendered these feelings? Snape would be disgusted with him. But he’d have to force those feelings down. He had to know if it was true, if there was a cure. He slid his leg over the edge of the bed, feeling the pounding in his temples already of his hangover. “Lie back down, Lupin,” Snape said, sitting a goblet and a mug down on the end table. “I have something for your head and tea.”

Remus tried not to notice the way the other man’s fingers curled around the handles. “Severus---were you being serious last night? About the cure?” That it was probably the rudest thing Lupin had ever said and he could feel his face reddening at the thought. He couldn’t regret it even as his chest was pounding as he waited for a response.

“Quite serious,” Snape said, “I don’t want to promise you anything though. It’s experimental.”

“I understand,” Remus said, “and I can take it…?”

“Tomorrow,” Snape replied, “I’ll make the preparations today,” he said as he looked Remus over. Remus assumed it was to check for further signs that he’d become mentally unhinged and he felt himself fighting the urge to squirm.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, but he wasn’t. It had felt, in a strange way---good.

“You look more like yourself today than you have in four months,” Snape said, in that strange way of his that left Remus uncertain of how to feel. “I must get to work.” Remus watched him retreat from the room. Could it be true---was there a cure for lycanthropy? He could barely remember his life before the painful transformations, before the secrecy, and the disgust. It would mean getting Teddy back, being a capable father and a full-time professor. He lay back against the pillows, and for the first time in a long time, he imagined a better world.

XIII.

The next morning when he awoke, it felt like all the anticipation from every Christmas past was built up inside him now. Snape had worked tirelessly through the day and night yesterday to prepare the potion. Remus sat in the kitchen, newspaper in hand, as if it were a normal day. It wasn’t. “Severus, you look terrible,” he said before he could stop himself as Snape appeared at the top of the steps. “You forget, that this is how I always look,” Snape said handing him the goblet.

“Have you already taken it?” Remus asked, sure that Snape would be more than happy to avoid a second transformation himself.

“No,” he said simply. Remus looked down into the goblet.

“Do you want to go first?”

“Don’t be a fool! Drink it!” Snape said coarsely and Remus obliged him, drinking the thick liquid down---all the while reminding himself that if it didn’t work, Snape could fix it---that one day it might. Trying to mitigate the inevitable let down when this too lead to nothing. He began choking, feeling in many ways, the same effects that Wolfsbane had on him---only amplified. He crumpled forward, and felt Snape’s arms steady him as he writhed. But unlike the Wolfsbane, the pain subsided, and he felt a surge of warmth. It was almost euphoric, and he tilted his head back to drink it in.

“Lupin?” Severus’s voice seemed to be coming from the wrong end of a very long tunnel. Remus groaned, and turned his head towards Snape’s neck.

“Am I normal?” he whispered, suddenly weak. Snape drew him back, staring carefully at his face---his expression unreadable, but not worrisome.

“It’s you,” Snape said, ushering him into the bathroom. Remus understood why. In the corners of the bathroom mirror that hadn’t quite yet fallen out from the impact of his fist, he stared into that better world. It still him---but younger---healthier. His hair wasn’t streaked with grey, but a shiny tawny. His amber eyes no longer lined with bags, no longer sunken in---but bright and lively. And his scars---all of his scars were vanished. He smiled at himself. The potion hadn’t merely cured his lycanthropy---it had reversed the effects of it. It was like it had never happened. He turned towards Snape, tears falling unnoticed down his cheeks.

“You did it,” he said, turning to the taller man, and throwing his arms around him. Remus looked up at him, Snape’s expression unreadable. And in the moment, if felt like everything good in the world existed in the room where they stood. He tilted his head and lightly pressed his lips against Snape’s. Snape hesitated a moment before gently shoving the other man away.

“I didn't work on developing this potion to get you to make out with me, Lupin,” Snape said. “You’re under no obligation to repay me. Remus felt his pulse throb quickly, “Damnit Snape! Why is it—that in your mind---no one in the world is capable have a genuine reaction to anything---but you!?”

For the first time in Remus’s adult life, he didn’t have the wolf’s rage or passion to blame strong emotions on. Snape looked momentarily intrigued by the response, before sitting on the bed, “because they rarely do.”

“Well believe me when I tell you this is one of those times. I want to kiss you. I want you to kiss me back. Stop pulling so much into yourself for a second and consider the fact that maybe you want the same thing.” Remus sighed, realizing the entire conversation was pointless. He paused before continuing. “I understand if you don’t want this, but don’t tell me that I don’t.”

“You were wrong,” Snape said standing now, as Remus rolled his eyes, “when you said the other night that people never change.” He pressed Remus slowly but forcefully against the wall. And Remus, now without the inherent strength he’d possessed as a werewolf felt helpless against Snape’s grip, “Because we both have,” he said, his voice just a whisper against Remus’s cheek, “And you are right, I do want to kiss you.” Remus stared at him, waiting to see what he would do, as Snape’s eyes flickered down to his lips. And they did kiss, hesitantly at first, but then slower and deeper. Until Remus was certain he’d never felt so warm as he was now in the other man’s grasp. And he wondered if this, finally, was love.

“How long until you can brew another batch?” he said, wanting them both to be rid of the curse.

“There won’t be another batch,” Snape said, without pulling away. “I began making the potion this past year. I thought if I could do something good, it might start to even out some of the bad. But I realized I was missing an ingredient I could never attain. The potion only works if the blood of one of the werewolf’s victims is added.” Remus wished he could turn away from the other man’s gaze. But he was still pinned to the wall.

“So you know it was me who bit you? You knew all along? And,” Remus paused, “you can’t ever be cured yourself?”

“Not unless I bite and turn someone myself, which I have no plans to. So no.” Remus felt everything crash down around him. “Don’t look like that, Remus,” Snape said, kissing his jaw slowly. “I don’t care. I’m glad. You’re cured, and I can live like this.” Snape kissed him again until Remus relented and kissed him back. This was the place, Remus thought to himself, where things could begin again, where their collective wounds could reveal a thicker skin.

Epilogue

“Just fail them all and be done with it,” Snape said. “It’s Christmas Eve, isn’t that supposed to mean something to people like you.”

“People like me?” Remus said, turning away from the hordes of essays still needing graded, to smile easily at a sleeping Teddy, curled against Snape’s shoulder on the couch.

“Gryffindors,” Snape said as the tawny haired boy shifted sleepily in his grasp.“There’s mulled wine on the stove. I thought we’d have some while stared at the tree, or shake wrapped presents, or whatever it is that normal retired ex-spies and now werewolves are supposed to do with their part-time professor lovers.” From his desk, he could see the tree they’d set up a few weeks ago, glittering whimsically in the front room. He was glad that Snape had made the concession to stay a few days with him and Teddy over Christmas break at their Hogwarts home. The other man had been increasingly busy with trial for his innocence ongoing at the Ministry.

“You make me sound boring,” Remus said, pouring both of them a steaming mug of mulled wine before sitting down next to Snape. Snape accepted the mug, blowing across it lightly, as he stared into the Christmas tree lights.

“You’re allowed to be boring,” Snape said finally, his cheek resting against Teddy’s soft hair, “for another month at least.” Remus smiled, feeling tired himself and tilted his head so he was leaning on Snape’s other shoulder. As he sat there, he realized that Snape had made this place: a place for Remus to love him, and a place for Remus to be loved.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [2012 Snupin Santa Holiday fest](http://snupinsanta.annex-files.com/viewstory.php?sid=527&chapter=1)


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